


Streetmouse

by DeathDirt



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Baby, I mean, M/M, Mostly Fluff, but damn, child rearing, doom and gloom is fun and all, dunno what you want, gotta balance it out, so please dont judge, some of the shit i write is depressing af, this is a nice little buffer, too harsh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathDirt/pseuds/DeathDirt
Summary: Junkrat and Roadhog are happily gay and honestly couldn't care for kids. But Junkrat has a knack for making Roadhog's life a living hell. This is the most recent of those aggravations





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Her codename is Streetmouse](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/283764) by zxid. 



> Open the link in a new tab to go to the original tumblr post and please please PLEASE, like and reblog the art!!!!!!!

Oh, Talon was _pissed_. 

Beyond it.

Junkrat was practically screaming his laughter on the back of Roadhog's chopper as Talon's biggest funding partner went down in smoke. Trying to follow was Reaper on the ground, eyes a baleful red, Widowmaker across rooftops, and Sombra lagging behind. Here and there Junkrat tossed frags to make Reaper float in place for a second in order to remain fairly intact, then try to make up for the time he'd lost. Every time Reaper had to stop and flow around a smoking piece of garbage, Roadhog rumbled with laughter. Before long, the three members of Talon were reduced to tiny specks of color in the distance. The blinky-thing that Overwatch had strapped to Junkrat began to get blinky. The Aussie huffed, opened up a small panel and fiddled with the wires for a moment before the device unlocked itself from his wrist, smashing to scrap on the rushing asphalt. Show them Overwatch fucks to try to track him. Roadhog rolled to a stop in the shipyard they'd been sent out of. Junkrat hopped right up and did his best to pull the heavy tarp towards the bike on his own. ...And got all of two feet closer to the chopper. Hog shook his head and grabbed the edge of the cover, slinging it over the bike with a single motion.

Without giving Roadhog any time to catch up, Junkrat went running around the shipyard, hooting about the latest heist plan. Overwatch couldn't hear him, so why bother being quiet about it? Hog was close behind, though. Even after joining Overwatch (begrudgingly and against their will), Roadhog didn't trust Junkrat's safety without him. Hell, even in Overwatch's secret hidey-hole, Roadhog was closer to Junkrat than teeth on a croc. At least it was just one to look after, though. Hog didn't care for the rest of Overwatch, which was why he didn't often get deployed without Rat. If Junkrat wasn't in the lot behind him, Roadhog would barrel ahead, shooting and healing and hooking, over and over, without a thought to the group behind him.

Suddenly Junkrat stopped. Stone still. He only ever got that way when he was listening for a special something. The something, however, varied. Sometimes it was a valuable hunk of weaponry. Some it was a dirty omnic hiding out that he could bully. And yet others, it was absolutely nothing. Paranoia kicking in. Which was perfectly fine with Roadie. Better chasing after nothing than getting their heads blown off. Then, just as quickly as he stopped, Junkrat went running off towards a stack of metal shipping crates. Roadhog normally had no issues keeping up with Junkrat, but now, even with their size difference, he wasn't gaining as much ground as he'd like to. At this distance he couldn't guarantee that Junkrat wouldn't get snatched like a kid. The older suppressed a shudder. For some reason, the thought of Jamie getting unwittingly caught up in sex trafficking...it made him really uneasy.

So Hog picked up the pace, able to keep up even around the sharp turns Junkrat insisted on. And just like every other decision so far that day, Junkrat took an unexpected turn into an empty crate. Yeah. _That_ didn't set off all kinds of alarms. Unfortunately, Junkrat's naturally high energy level made him run like a maniac. On top of being smaller and more maneuverable. Dammit.

Thankfully though, he stopped as soon as he got into the big crate. He'd cocked his head, jumping up here and there to inspect the occasional crate. Methodically, he worked his way to the back of the larger metal box, ending at a little lump of unfolded cardboard. Something inside of it rustled. Junkrat creeped on it, ready to spring back at the slightest provocation. He was reaching for the cardboard scraps when a high-pitched wail echoed through the shipping container. Both men clamped their hands over their ears, mouthing curses at each other - or more Junkrat mouthing curses at Roadhog and Roadhog practically screaming - until the screech stopped. With a flourish, Junkrat tore away the cardboard and underneath was...a thing. Live. Not an omnic, but Junkrat wasn't one-hundred percent on the word. Whatever regular people were when they first popped out of mama. What was the word? _C'mon... What is it? Babi? Bobi? Baby!_ Right. That thing. That was what was underneath the cardboard.

It was wrapped up in a ratty old blanket, but it looked sallow, thin. Like Junkrat. But its skin was darker. He stooped down and picked it up, feeling its bony ribs poke out from its skin. Poor baby. Just as sick as Rat. "Hey Roadie, check out what I just found!" Junkrat hefted the baby like it was a great weight even though it was really light. Hog groaned, pushing against the side of his head. Of course...of _course_ Junkrat found a baby. As if Junkrat wasn't childish enough. "Guess Mum oughta be around here somewhere..." Junkrat mumbled, looking past Roadhog to the outside of the freight container. "Not that easy," Hog mumbled, looking past that way as well. "Like birds. Once ya find the eggs, Mum don't wanna come back to get eaten 'erself." Junkrat's stomach dropped. He just doomed this kid to death. That...he couldn't do that on purpose. He couldn't.

He'd watched so many kids get abandoned by people who didn't want to deal with them. People who didn't think before they fucked. And that was if the kids weren't killed outright. After the Omnic Crisis, if the kid wasn't old enough to carry something - a weapon, food, water, ammo - they got gutted and tossed out the window. Rat felt himself sicken when he remembered how all the wild dogs howled at night as they feasted on human kids that had gotten their throats slit.

He couldn't do that to another kid. "W-we just take 'im with us, then. It'll be fine. He can grow up with us!"  
"Jamie..."  
"Oh get off it! It ain't gonna hurt nothin'!"  
"'Cept for the fact that you blow things up for a living and I gut them. You think a kid's gonna do well with us?"  
"Yeah! He will! And I ain't leavin' 'im! If Overwatch won't lemme keep 'im, I'll blow 'em ta bits an' keep him anyway." Junkrat nodded with the giant, 'I-refuse-to-listen-to-sanity' smile plastered all over his face. Hog just groaned again. "Sure it's male anyway?" Junkrat looked a bit unsure for a second until he pulled the blanket back to check. "Nope! L'il miss!" Baby hugged to his chest, Junkrat walked out with finality. The craft from Overwatch that was to take them back was starting to land when Junkrat piped up again. "I got it! We'll call 'er Rosie! Rosie Fawkes-Rutledge! An'...an' she'll get a street name! Street... Streetmouse!" Junkrat lifted the baby girl up as if he was christening Jesus Christ himself.

This was going to be a long, long... _looooong_ day for Roadhog.


	2. Chapter 2

Mercy knew, from the look on Junkrat's face, that there was some kind of trouble. It was almost like he simply _existed_ to torment her. The first reason was, of course, that he was some kind of scientific genius and yet...HE REFUSED TO DO ANYTHING SCIENTIFICALLY. And now, the most recent excuse was a little lump on his shoulder as he sauntered over. She'd never seen him hold anything that tenderly before. Not even Roadhog, despite their close romantic relationship. "G'day ta you, Doc," he announced, placing himself directly in front of her. He loved doing that. For whatever reason, Mercy always felt so stung whenever Junkrat decided to sidle up so close to her. Perhaps part of it was the fact that he was forever half-naked. That never sat well with her, being a doctor and understanding all manner of disease that such behavior could cause.

"Junkrat," she sighed, forcing a smile on her face, "what seems to be the problem today?" The Aussie pushed a few singed locks from his forehead before holding out the little lump he'd been carrying. "Ain't me today. 'S l'il Rosie instead." He grinned. Like that just explained everything. "W-who?" Angela stuttered out. Junkrat was suddenly very unamused. He unfolded the blanket to reveal a dirty little child. Angela gasped, trying to grab the baby so she could get to work right away, but Junkrat held her away. "Jamison Fawkes!" She yelled, face turning bright red. Rat still didn't hand over Rosie. He didn't want to just watch her get carted off. Angela marched the few remaining feet of distance to him, glaring straight into his bright orange eyes. "Junkrat," Angela growled through her teeth, "if you don't give her to me, she could very well **die**. Do you want that?" Junkrat shook his head immediately, but he still held the little girl to his chest. It took a moment to calm herself, but Angela, with a sigh, tentatively touched Junkrat's shoulder. "You're free to come with, but I want you to know that it won't be very pretty to look at. Are you alright?" Rat was a bit sulky about it. But there wasn't much he could do. His own body was in hellish shape as it was, though he did what he could to take care of himself. 

Babies were probably more Mercy's speed. Reluctantly, he handed the infant over, then stayed close on Angela's heels as the doctor ran to the emergency bay. She had to control her doctor's impulse to shove Jamie out of the room, which was incredibly easy after a few glances. He looked horrified. Even with his limited medical knowledge, he seemed to just know that Rosie was on the brink of death as it was. Angela worked hard, quickly, as well as she could under pressure. She didn't have the utmost experience handling infants, but she knew enough that she could get this little girl back to full health in a few weeks. If Jamison could manage to keep his hands off of her. Every few minutes he was at the edge of the bed, doing his best to get some kind of response out of the girl. Angela had scared him to the point that he didn't trust himself to do any more than rub the infant's tiny little hands.

When all the emergency tests were run, IVs ran, fluids pumped, Angela allowed herself a moment's rest. She stole a quick look at the digital clock beside the bed. Four hours since Rosie came in. Junkrat hadn't left for a single second. Finally, Angela also realized that Roadhog was nowhere to be found. Since she didn't have the heart to tear Junkrat away from this little girl, Angela phoned Mei, currently performing her wind-current experiments, and asked her to fetch the missing Aussie. "Mei, please. I understand that you don't get along the best with these two, but it's urgent. And..." Angela lowered her voice to barely more than a whisper, "I don't know if Jamison will be able to handle this weight by himself." Mei was silent for a good minute. "What happened?" She finally asked, words coming out slow. "It's...confidential. If you'd like, you can peek in either when you bring Roadhog or on your way, but please do. His absence is concerning."  
"Isn't that the statement of the year," Mei mumbled into the comm. "He could be out destroying cities, even without Fawkes' explosives. But...I suppose I could purge myself for a while. My eyes are starting to water from all the wind." Angela smiled, even if it couldn't be seen. "Thank you, Mei. And if you can, please don't make Roadhog any more upset or nervous than he must be."  
"Oh, you ruin my fun. I'll see you in a moment."

 

Mei quietly opened the door to Fawkes and Rutledge's shared room. She'd done a sweep of the building before bothering to check the most likely place of all, deciding that if she didn't come across a hog in the hallway, she'd get a quick squad out to take him down. But, as expected, he was there in the room, quietly sitting. Hesitantly so, Mei knocked on the wall before flipping the light on. Roadhog seemed unfazed. She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling very invasive. "Um...sorry to bother you, Roadhog, but Angela wants you to go down to the emergency bay. She...ahem, she said that something was going on and that Junkrat probably wouldn't be able to go through the night without you there. Do you think you could follow me to the...the, um...the med bay?" Hog shrugged, pushing off of the bed, which squealed in a joyous relief.

Roadhog followed her without a word, which Mei was thankful for. If it had been Junkrat, she wouldn't have been so conscious of interrupting or snapping a quick command, but Roadhog was a bit different. He worked for Junkrat, sure, but he'd never really done anything to offend Mei or make her think badly of him. Quick stepping got them to the emergency bay in about five minutes. Angela was half-passed out on the second bed, Junkrat was sitting on the floor by the first, dark circles forming under his eyes. He was surprisingly still, to both Roadhog and Mei. The latter of the two half-squeaked when she saw the baby on the table rather than Junkrat. If _he'd_ been the one on the table, she'd probably have left immediately. But this...she couldn't make herself walk away from this. Mei shuffled over, looking over Angela's work with what knowledge she had of the medical field. Which...admittedly, wasn't much. Just bits and pieces. For example, she understood entirely what the IV was for - restoration of lost fluids - but she couldn't fathom what the tubes going into the little one's mouth and nose were for.

Roadhog put himself down next to Junkrat, slinging an arm around his shoulders to pull him close. He mumbled incoherently for a second before Hog could make out any words. "Can't let her die, couldn't leave her, couldn't let her go, fuck. Dingoes, dogs, guts, gore, kids, couldn't let her be one of 'em." Junkrat laid his head on Hog's belly, eyes wide as they stared at the ceiling. "You...ya know what 'm talkin' about, Roadie...right?" Hog nodded. He knew just as well as Junkrat what happened to so many little kids in continent of Australia these days. Half became little more than gutted fish, the other half turned feral. Ran with dogs, or in little packs of their own. Sometimes it hit hard just how much the Omnic Crisis had twisted the beauty of the Outback.

Barely managing to stay awake, Angela half-stumbled towards Roadhog and Junkrat, rubbing her forehead while she thought of what she wanted to say very carefully. "Where did you find her?" Junkrat popped his head up immediately. "Big ol' cargo freight, where we got picked up." A moment of silence as Angela's fatigued mind slowly processed the answer. "Did you see anyone leaving? Anyone at all?"  
"No. She was all by 'erself. Hid under a pile'a board in the back." Angela shook her head, slowly lifting her heavy eyelids. "Okay. Well-" The doctor stifled a yawn. "-the tests show that she's at severe risk for disease, due to...malnutrition, dehydration," Angela continued, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, "but she doesn't actually have any diseases. Which means that she hasn't been in this state for very long. And that means..." Angela waited for a moment, back to rubbing her eyes. "That means that she was probably hidden there a few hours before by her mother or father. And that they were probably intending to come back with food for her." If she weren't so tired, she would've been glowering at Junkrat. "Do you simply exist to torment others?" Junkrat huffed, crossing his arms and leaning on Roadie.

"From what I've heard from Reinhardt, your bodyguard doesn't seem to enjoy putting up with you either." Junkrat flushed, turning to stare at the empty wall, away from the other three. Roadhog was going red behind his mask but kept quiet. "You cause me no end of pain," Angela kept on, leaning down, "by putting your body through proverbial hell without allowing me to actually treat you, even though Roadhog has been perfectly accepting of my diagnoses and treatments." Junkrat didn't move, didn't say a word. "On _top_ of all this, you've irritated easily one of the most likable individuals in Overwatch," she said, raising her voice slightly as she gestured to Mei, "and royally pissed off every human or omnic in this building at least once, except perhaps Master Zenyatta."  
"Dumb omnic," Junkrat muttered. "Enough of that!" Angela roared back. "And now, to put the icing on the cake, you've just sent a mother, more likely a couple, spiraling into panic because you couldn't keep your filthy paws to yourself! Perhaps you should attempt to _fix_ your wrongdoings here and there instead of boasting about them, waving them around like pride flags!" Angela stalked out of the room, dark purple half-moons under her eyes edging with red.

Neither of the remaining two noticed the wet shine that formed around Junkrat's eyes. Mei stared at the door after Angela and wondered. It was probably the exhaustion of her day taking advantage of her. Angela didn't often, if ever, got angry like that. Not in that way. She pulled a spare chair by the two on the floor, tentatively resting her hand on Roadhog's massive shoulder. "I don't believe Angela meant any of that," she quietly admitted, eyes to the floor. "I think she's just tired. She's more used to working on people our size. Stress is a very powerful thing when we allow it to go unchecked, the same as any disease or environmental destruction." Roadhog just quietly tugged Junkrat closer.


	3. Chapter 3

Apparently, Junkrat was totally unfazed. Despite Angela's harsh lashing, he was awake and bounding around the base the next day, same as ever. Mei kept a quiet vigil over him, silently tailing Junkrat whenever Roadhog was off doing...whatever it was that Roadhog did when he wasn't with Rat. He seemed entirely unaffected, minus his purposeful avoidance of Angela. But he did that anyway. He'd creep into the emergency bay when Angela left for a few minutes, steal some attention when Rosie was awake, then slip back out before Angela made it back. And every night at dinner, he'd be sitting with Roadhog, the two by themselves in the corner, barely able to contain every little thing he could think of to tell him about Rosie.

And this is, of course, Junkrat, so everybody heard what he had to say but Angela, who made him quiet as soon as she walked in. Mei found it downright cute. Even with Junkrat's despicable mannerisms. He'd babble quietly for a second, stop to eat a few bites of whatever, then pop right back up. "She's got huge blue eyes, Roadie! Prettier than a clear sky! And she ain't really all that dirty, just dark-skinned. You gotta get an eyeful of her when she gets fixed up!" Torbjorn and Reinhardt laughed at these moments especially heartily. "He won't be so eager for the young'un after he has to start takin' care of her," Torbjorn muttered once while Junkrat was in one of his steady rambles. Ana laughed at it, too. Jack was...horrifically silent. Hog kept an especially close eye on those two. If anyone were to break Junkrat's skinny little heart by taking Rosie away, it'd be one of those two. The quote-unquote "bosses". Take her and make her into one of _them_. Not likely.

She'd grow up with Rat and Hog. They wanted to try to take her? 

Let them endure the hellish uprising of Junkrat and Roadhog.

Angela desperately wished that anyone else was more willing and able to take care of Rosie. But, as luck would have it, nobody was in any shape to care for a child, much less an infant. That didn't mean that Junkrat and Roadhog were, but they at least had the free time to learn how. Nobody else did. She knocked on the wall as lightly as she dared to. Perhaps if they didn't answer she could find Rosie a sweet little adoption center. Let Junkrat's erratic memory loss take care of the rest. Instead, Junkrat threw open the door and immediately began to snatch for Rosie. "C'mon sheila, gimme!" Angela held him at bay with a hand against his forehead. "Junkrat," she murmurs, turning her body so that Rosie is somewhat hidden behind her body, "I want you to report to me for at least an hour every day so that I can demonstrate how to properly care for her." He rolled his bright eyes, just reaching around her instead for Rosie. 

"Yeah, yeah, sheila, just gimme my Streetmouse." Angela had stopped twisting for a single moment to growl her indignation, all that Junkrat needed. He was used to working in fractions of seconds. Angela, apparently, was not. Junkrat had Rosie in his arms before Angela fully processed the motion, then had the metal door slammed directly in her face. Rat just howled a cackle at her, kicking the door for good measure. "Dumb ol' betty she is," he muttered under his breath, half to Rosie. "Prob'ly wanted ta try 'n make you one 'a their pretty silver-spoon jockies. I ain't gonna let that happen to ya, though," he reassured, sanity once again lost. Hog was gone on another solo-mission from the Over-Bitch, so Junkrat took to the floor, pulling every blanket, pillow, sheet and cushion that was available onto the floor to make a big, soft, fluffy fortress. Rosie watched with some confusion, as much as an infant could muster. She'd only seen Mercy for the past month, and her little baby mind had a hard time keeping up with it, but this new person was weird. Weird-good. Mercy was strict, even if she tried to be warm. Junkrat simply possessed the aura of a good time.

After adding in some little stolen plushies for effect, Junkrat took stock of his work. Not a bad little shelter from the sheila's bitching. Scooping up Rosie, he squeezed into his masterpiece, falling asleep almost immediately. His sleep schedule had been horrendous since bringing Rosie back to Overwatch. The softness, the dirty smell, the comforting warmth, all sent him spiraling into a deep sleep, along with the youngling beside him.

 

Roadhog lumbered in, huffing a bit from his last dose of hogdrogen. Angela had continued to tell him not to, but it wasn't like it was hurting him. Not that he knew or cared of, at least. The room was pitch-dark, which he honestly expected. Junkrat didn't like the room much, even though they'd probably blown half of it to pieces to stretch it to their accommodations. But when he flipped the light on, he was both perplexed and not. The room was covered from floor to ceiling with blankets and bedding, with the two mattresses of theirs serving as a big base for the whole thing. In the center of the labyrinth of bedding laid Junkrat and his self-christened Streetmouse. Both of them sleeping. Good God, Jamie got too adorable for his own good sometimes. Funny how that word was so distasteful when used on anything else _but_ Junkrat.

...Maybe it could edge over for the kid. She was fine to look at, and yeah Junkrat's description of her was a bit over-exaggerated, but he didn't get anything wrong. Her eyes were blue as a cloudless sky, pretty darkened complexion, with a few wisps of pitch-black hair on her head. Baby-chubby, too. Finally. She'd looked more like a ragdoll when Junkrat first pulled her out from that freight crate. This was how a baby was supposed to look. Healthy and fat and maybe a little rosey. Heh. Rosey Rosie. That was cute. She was cute.

The big blanket fort was good and all, but Hog had nowhere to settle down after the mission. And it'd been a long one. A lot longer than he'd preferred. So he was going to get somewhere to lay or sit or...whatever else. All he was able to think of was clearing the big canopy from behind the two rodents and plopping himself down on the remaining mattress surface. Junkrat and Rosie both bounce, with the latter being jostled awake and sliding over to rest against Roadhog's girth. She pawed at his side, trying her best to get around this new giant thing that had just made her wake up. On top of it, more accurately. Hog ignored it for a solid minute before he instinctively pulled the tiny kid up to his face. For a moment she just hovers, unsure of what to do until she notices the big detail of Roadhog. She squeezed the snout of his mask, softly giggling. Then she did it again. The stiff material didn't give in easy, but she found it fun to try, dig her tiny fingers in as much as possible just to leave the tiniest of tiny imprints in the black.

Kids. Now he had two to deal with. Oh boy. He was getting much too old for this.

 

"C'mon, tyke! Say it, ya bugger!" Rosie was almost a year old. She'd been able to babble out the occasional nonsense word here and there, but nothing that really counted. Junkrat had been working on 'Papa Rat' and 'Papa Hog' for months, trying to get it out of her for her first real word. Either of those or 'bomb'. Any of the three would make him happy. "I'd give up if I were you," Ana chided, watching from the table closest to the Junkers' corner. "She won't speak until she decides she's ready. Girls tend to be a bit more stubborn with that."  
"Aw, I can get her to pop one out! I been workin' on it, too." Ana hid a girlish giggle behind her hand. "The more you 'work' on it, Jamison, the more she'll refuse. Fareeha's babysitter tried to get her first word to be his name, and it didn't come out until she was three." Junkrat stuck his tongue out at the older woman. 

She had proven herself badass enough that he didn't mind her stick-up-the-assness. And in turn, Junkrat had showed that he was at least somewhat valuable enough to Ana that she didn't treat him so roughly. "P-p-p-" Rosie put her hands out, grasping at thin air. With a reluctant groan, he hoisted her into his lap, rendering her attempts at speaking once again null. "What did I tell you?"  
"Let a Aussie dream, will ya? I been gettin' drool all ova me for months for this." Ana shook her head, returning to her meal, though she still watched Junkrat and Streetmouse with motherly amusement. Aside from the two, the cafeteria was largely empty. More and more often, Junkrat was asking to be held back, which wasn't his usual play. And it wouldn't be if it weren't for his ever-growing distrust. Other than Ana and Roadhog, Junkrat didn't trust a damn soul in the place. Especially not the winged sheila. He knew he'd seen little pamphlets scattered all over her med bay while he scrounged for painkillers and anti-rads about giving a child up for adoption, and now he didn't dare leave Rosie at the base without Roadhog or himself there. 

Speaking of the big guy himself, Roadhog dragged himself in, just as tired as he'd been all week. Overwatch kept sending him out over and over, and he was starting to think it was to spite Junkrat for hanging back. He wouldn't put it past them. Rosie reached out to Roadhog, asking to be held with her grabby little hands. "P...Pa-pig! Pa-pig!" Ana looked in shocked disbelief. Junkrat hopped up immediately after handing her over and jumping in place, throwing little poppers for celebration. "Ha! Gotcha! Told ya she'd do it! Months'a work, an' it paid off!" Rosie watched her other dad with practically the same expression as Roadhog under his mask - tired delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I don't know if I should go into a time-skip or not, but I really want to. Yea? Nay? ...Hey?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get done v v; It was a DOOZY, and it just took a while after the initial 3/4 of it was done. Just...thinking of how it should go and how to write it.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Footsteps of a teenager late for a class.

Athena risked letting out a small chuckle. "Punctual as ever, Streetmouse."  
"'Ey, you bag of wires! At least I'm _consistent._ If I'm late, ya know exactly how late 'm gonna be." Angela wandered a little ways ahead. Rosie grinned and laughed, mixing two very eerie elements she'd picked up from her pa's. She lobbed a little flashbang, making Angela shriek and cover her head. The girl laughed out loud, vaulting over Angela as she began to pick herself up, landing in a roll before popping back up. "Gotta pick up the pace, sheila!" Rosie yelled over her shoulder. Through some wicked conditioning, she'd slowly but surely learned to despise Mercy just as much as her Pat. Now she was another eternal tormenter.

On her way out to the training range, Rosie hooked up her weaponry. Everyone complained that she wasn't 'using her talents', instead 'mimicking other styles', blah blah black sheep, who gives a damn? Sure, it was more of a combo of her dads' gear, but she thought that the whole place would go down in flames if they let her try to find something else. ...A flamethrower. Rosie made a mental note to run that by Pat later. Flamethrower...

The thought vanished when the training bots began firing. Drones though they were, Rosie just envisioned them as dirty omnics. See if _they_ wanna shoot at a true-blooded Junker. She slid under the nearest, catching it with her chain and swinging up to shove a grenade in its plating. The drone freaked for a moment before resuming its programming, shooting wildly. Haha! Right on point. Right between its bloody optics. Rosie yelled her taunts at the other drones - "C'mon you dole bludgers! Get some'a me if ya can, dumb galahs!" - slinging the chain back over her shoulder. Even through the tattered top, the sting of metal always made her fire for a fight. The drones fired towards their companion and Rosie could only laugh while jumping from the top of one drone to another as her escape. The first drone blew, taking two others down with it, leaving two more. These odd numbers always made her skittish. No clue why, they just made her jittery. Or maybe that was just 'cuz of Pat. Oh well. That jumpiness was awful helpful during these practice sessions. Rosie could duck, dodge, roll, then throw herself a grenade or two and keep going.

While the drones fired, Rosie ducked behind a smoking wall that the first one had shot. Now was the time to take it easy. The drones would take it slow, work around the cover to find her, by which time she could be behind them, slamming their bloody metal carcasses together to get blown to pieces! Ahaha! Insanity may not be infectious, but Rosie disagreed. The drones didn't take their time today, though. They rushed forward, turning the corner of the wall easily. Rosie shrugged to herself then rolled a flash toward the drones. Inconspicuous-like. They looked, Rosie turned her back to them, and when the grenade went off, she pulled herself up the wall. "Try me now, bloody 'bots!" Frag in. Bots out.

"An' Shimada thinks I don't take this seriously," she declared to herself, brushing some gunpowder off her shoulder. Light metal taps on the concrete. Genji, Pops, or Pharah. But Pops had a tendency to breathe real heavy when he ran. And Pharah usually flew. Rosie swung around, catching the sword on her chain before it got any closer. "I still believe you do not," the cyborg muttered under his breath. "So what if I don't?" Rosie countered. "Pat an' Pa don't."  
"Because they work chaotically. You don't have their lifestyle to work as they do."  
"Bunch'a shit. I may notta been born like that, but I'm a full-blooded Junker like them." Genji recoiled. Rosie smugly grinned, falling back to give him a two-footed kick to his dumb metal chest while balancing on her hands. "See? I can beat you damn well." Genji caught himself in a flip, regaining his stance as Rosie dropped from the wall. "Why do you insist on spewing vulgarity during your training? You are a mere child." Rosie huffed and tossed a popper with way more force than she needed to. "I'm thirteen fuckin' years old! I ain't a kid!" She retaliated. Genji threw a trio of shurikens towards her, which Rosie caught in quick succession. "Can't catch me with that trick anymore, Shimada. Told ya, I ain't a dumb kid."

Genji came towards her again, ready with a flurry of kicks and jabs. Here's where her innate hyperactivity really helped. Each twitch got her a hair's breadth away from the cyborg's precise blows. Not much, but enough for both of them. "What's the problem? Can you not deflect any of my blows?"  
"I can, I just choose not to ta tick you off." Genji held back a noise of irritation. It was an unfortunate quirk she'd picked up from her younger parent. She could - and would - aggravate and irritate anyone and everyone. In a quick motion, Genji pulled another trio of shurikens out and flung them towards the girl. She yelped as one point grazed her cheek, but used the opportunity to duck, get her chain around Shimada's ankle, and pull him down. Then her foot was on his chest, a grenade in her hand. "Happy with that, cy-fella?" They stared at one another for a solid minute before Genji nodded. Rosie chucked the grenade off to the side. It blew. "Shit. DIdn't think I pulled that one. Oh well." She shurgged, then helped her training partner - he insisted on 'Sensei' but Rosie had continued with her steady stream of 'I don't give a damn' - off the floor.

Day after day, he was surprised by the girl's strength. Perhaps it was to be expected, given Roadhog's insistence upon her weight training, but she was much stronger than most gave her credit for. She lifted him up easily. She was only thirteen and yet she could manage to get most of Overwatch's current roster over her shoulder. Not quite Winston and Reinhardt yet, though. It was a bit of a sore subject. "Anythin' to add, Shimada?"  
"Just keep in mind that your enemies will not fight fairly as I do with you. Be prepared."  
"Aw, c'mon, ninja. I'm the kid of two'a the most feared criminals on Earth. I think I know how ta prepare myself for a fight. Scratch that, I know how get myself prepped for a **war**." Rosie walked out with her characteristic swagger. That was something else Genji didn't quite approve of. Her unending arrogance. Yet _another_ symptom of her upbringing. For her youth, though, he granted that she was quite the fighter. Junkrat and Roadhog made better fathers than anyone had really expected.

 

Rosie flopped herself over Roadhog. "Hey, Pa. Got done with mornin' trainin'." Hog grunted. "Readin' another porno or what?" Roadhog was quick to flip the book out of sight. Unfortunately, Junkrat had clued her in one just about every little twitch of Roadhog's early on, so she knew exactly what it was. "Ya know I don't care what you read?" She flipped over to her back, stretching her limbs up. "Shimada's been such a fuckin' stiff lately. Mean, he's always been like that, but damn. Gettin' worse. And the sheila was in the way this morning. She usually steers clear." Rosie turned her bright blue eyes on the cloudy lenses of her adopted dad. "Somethin' big goin' down?"  
"Nah, she's just takin' advantage of Junkrat bein' sent out more."  
"Again?!" She whined. Rosie groaned, pushing her fists into her eye sockets. "Why they gotta keep pullin' him out? They got other demo-people, don't they? Like the centaur bot. ...Ooh, guess what I did ta it last night!" Streetmouse popped up, bouncing excitedly on Roadhog's belly. "I stuck a bunch'a poppers in between all 'er plates! Watched her boot up this morning and it was great!" Rosie fanned her arms over her head. "Boom, pop! Pop-boom! It was amazin'! I'm gonna get the security footage from th' Athena thing. ...Breakfast, too. Ya want somethin'? Should I bring somethin' for Pat? When's he gonna be back? Wait! If there was a big mission-deal, then there's gonna be a tact meetin'! C'mon, ya gonna take me this time, ain't ya? Please!" Roadhog sighed, palm rubbing his forehead. Rosie was as thickheaded as she'd been raised to be. A few weeks ago, she'd asked to get in on the mandatory debriefs that Morrison demanded, but Hog knew that what she really wanted was to get in on an actual mission. Training with bots got boring after so long. And he was sure that Shimada didn't give her the excitement that she craved. But Junkrat was always vehemently against it.

He knew why. Mercy had scared him an awful lot while Rosie was little, making absolutely sure of his paranoia. Whether it was intentional or not was debatable, but it'd happened nonetheless. So any time it was remotely mentioned, Junkrat went on denying it like it was the only thing that mattered. The kid had a different opinion. "I'll see if the old man'll let you in. If you get in on something though..." "Be careful and blow it all to hell an' back?" Roadhog nodded. Rosie giggled, gently kicking her heel into Hog's flank. "Learned from the best."

Roadhog ruffled her wavy black hair. She'd only gotten darker as she got older, and her hair got way thicker too. As of late, she kept it in a frizzy short ponytail in an attempt to mimic Roadhog. It didn't work so well since she actually had to work on taking care of it according to Ana and Mercy, so she kept it much shorter. It barely stuck out three inches past the rubber band that held it in place. She'd also gotten into the habit of keeping her hair down when she wasn't training. It was down now, hanging just past her full cheek. Her dark hair and skin blended well with the gunpowder that often settled on her. And her rounded face made it better. ...Roadhog was somewhat to blame for that. He'd sort of hoped to get her into a thick lifter, but had stopped over the past year. She was thirteen and barely up to Junkrat's shoulder. What she lacked in height, though, she _more_ than made up for in thickness. If she wasn't going to get tall, then she was getting wide. Even after holding back on the overeating for a few months, she was pretty thick, with muscle for the most part and a bit of fat that still clung to her. Everybody else in Overwatch cajoled her for her thick body, but she stuck her tongue out at them and told them all to fuck off. Good kid she was. They liked to get onto her for just about everything. Most recently was her clothing. An old, tattered shirt under her chain that barely got over her chest and some baggy old shorts she snagged before they went down to the incinerator.

Fuck all of 'em.

Rosie jumped down to the floor, but paused before she opened the door. "Can we go home?" Hog had pulled himself to the edge of the bed. "Like...where you 'n Pat are from? I kinda wanna see it." She looked back, hopeful desperation all over her face. "No, Street. You don't." Rosie sulked a little, almost ashamed of asking. Getting on someone's bad side was practically what she lived for. But if it was Roadhog she upset, she lost her mood for the whole day. Junkrat was impossible to distress. "It's nothin' to do with you, little ankle biter," Hog reassured her, placing a giant hand on her shoulder. "Goin' down under isn't good for anyone. Junkrat can tell you personally. He was born on the edge of it, and I'll tell you now, it's not something you want to walk into. If it's not bad, we'll think on it." She didn't need to see such a hellhole and start her premature death. "Is it bad?"  
"Hell."  
"Even for you?"  
"...Almost. The apocalypse has nothing on me." Rosie giggled and hugged Roadhog. "'Cuz nuthin' beats Papig." Hog ruffled her hair again, pushing the door open with his free hand. "Nothing." A bit of bounce was put back in her step. Good thing Junkrat had taken over raising her. If it had been Hog...she'd have torn the base apart years ago.

 

Junkrat laid in his corner of the cafeteria, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. He was completely oblivious to the sneaking girl coming up to him. Rosie snatched him up, hefting Junkrat across her shoulders while he yelled. Anyone touching him was a big red flag if it wasn't Hog. "Hey, Pat." He thwacked his kid on her head. "Ya gonna kill me, kid!" "Nah, that'll be the sheila! I'm just gonna make sure she goes down, too." Raucous laughter filled the cafeteria. Little Rosie. Raised by insanity.

"C'mon, Pat, where'dja go, where'dja go?! Tell me!" "Ah, it was a sucky Talon base in...where was it... Yeah! It was in France! Shitty place it is. Not goin' back unless it's a run through one'a the stupid art museums fer a heist." That did make her shoulders slump. 'Heists' only included Junkrat and Roadhog. Not Streetmouse. One of these days, though. Pops'll let her go soon. She had a feeling.

Roadhog pulled the smaller man from their child's shoulders, situating him on one of his own broad shoulders. "Mornin' Roadie." Junkrat put an affectionate kiss on Hog's snout. "Bitch'uva ride without'cha. Gettin' food?" "Just me," Rosie mumbled, eyeing Winston as he settled down with his daily fruit fix. There was an awful lot of citrus in there, especially lemons... Lemons were good. "Gimme a sec."

 

"Dunno how you eat those things."  
" _I_ just know how to be a connoisseur of a different type of bomb." Rosie sucked the lemon wedge dry before popping it in her mouth. She loved lemons. Best damn things in the world. Someone knocked at the door. The three Junkers ignored it, quietly waiting for the Overwatch idiot to go away. "Rosie? It's Dr. Ziegler." Sheila. Of course. "I'm here for your regular checkup. If you'll come with me, I'll-"  
"Piss off!" Junkrat and Streetmouse yelled simultaneously. "Rosie, please-"  
"Streetmouse, sheila! We have her code name for a damn reason!" Angela sighed behind the door. She'd tried, truly tried, to maintain a relationship with Rosie, but Junkrat just pushed her back. "Um... I believe Jack asked to see you as well." Rosie was up instantly. Pops only ever wanted to talk when it was trying to get those debriefings. And those were when they worked out their next missions. Junkrat grabbed Rosie's arm, pulling her back down and protectively wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Fuckin' sheila..." He muttered. Dumb ass Morrison. Always trying to get to his little Streetmouse. Trying to get her out. No way. Come hell or high water, Rosie was the only thing that Junkrat didn't care to bring out to the battlefield. "Junkrat, Jack also wants to speak to you about your mission last night. He wants to know what happened."  
"Then ask the fuckin' cowboy! He was there, too!" McCree was...okay. Fun to get drunk with. His accent was a little annoying when he didn't shut up for a while, though.

"Junkrat, he's asked for you specifically. You know he wants debriefs from everyone, every time." Junkrat huffed, even though he knew she couldn't hear. Fuck their protocols and rules. He didn't need 'em. Junkrat worked on a strict nobody's-business basis. They could take their dumb ass rules and stick them. Roadhog knocked on the door, silently up and moving. "We'll be out in a sec." Rat just squeezed tighter. If Roadhog was around, it wouldn't be so bad. It'd still be really bad, but not so much with Hoggy around. With his big guy close, he felt at least a little safe.

Whatever. Not like Overwatch was gonna keep three Junkers in their tiny fucking lines. No problem. Junkrat, disgusted as he was to do it, released Rosie then got up to hobble himself out the door.

"That's it?"  
"Yep."  
"Fawkes, don't roll your eyes at me."  
"Then call me by my fuckin' name. Jamison Fawkes ain't been alive for years, mate." Soldier 76 lowly growled at the non-compliant Aussie. Junkrat had been difficult this whole meeting. Roadhog, Rosie and Ana did their best to keep him talking, but it never worked, so they didn't try very hard. Jack sighed heavily. Long days and nights were becoming commonplace. "Fine. That's all. Okay then, time to work over the next target." Rosie gripped the edge of the table in a white-knuckled hold. Pops was always throwing her little glances after these meetings, when she used to wait outside for Pa and Pat. He'd even said once that he wished that he could send her on one mission instead of Junkrat and Roadhog on ten. Junkrat was out of the seat, itching to get to the training range so he could grab some of the bots while they were shut down, but Roadhog pulled him back. "Dammit, Roadie, we don't gotta be here for this! They don't send us out more'n one at a-"  
"Streetmouse, you'll be going with Ana and Pharah on our next hit."  
"Fuck yeah!" Junkrat slammed his metal fist on the table. It sent a wide web of cracks around his clenched hand. "Hell no," he growled. "Fuck," Rosie muttered under her breath. She thought that Pat was already out. "Problem, Fawkes?"  
"Yeah, I got a problem. Ya sendin' a fuckin' kid to get blown up!"  
"She'll have Ana and Pharah with her," Jack forcefully restated. "She'll be fine." Junkrat bared his teeth. "It ain't _fine_ , it's fuckin' Talon. One of 'em pulled Ana's eye out, what's gonna keep 'em from doin' it ta Rosie?!"  
"We have a med bay, Fawkes. She can be patched."  
"Nope. Ain't gonna watch my kid get 'patched' 'cuz you fucks weren't watchin'." And that was final. No amount of yelling or arguing or instigating on Jack's part could get Junkrat to say another word. The Junkers left the meeting early, having been yelled away by Morrison. Back in the room, Junkrat was back to having his own hysteric fun, but Rosie quietly ate her lemons on her mattress she'd been sleeping on since she was a baby.

The way her Pat always fought when Pops brought this up made her feel...unsatisfactory. Like she wasn't good enough to go out and kick some ass, take some names. It materialized increasingly often, quiet hours spent in the bathroom curled up on the floor in a fetal position. Nobody really noticed, and she didn't need them to, so she never bothered talking about it. Not even to Pa.

Somewhere in the distance, her shoulder was shaking. Rosie blinked a few times then pulled her head up. "Okay, tiny? Gonna kill 'em all 'n stick their bloody heads on mines, then blow 'em way up! Yeah?" "Yeah. Yeah, sure." She was back to her glassy distance, like Junkrat was nothing more than a voice in her head.

Rosie woke to the sound of chains rattling. Pa and Pat got in on the next mission. Almost a week ago. That's when that meeting was. She'd cheered herself right back up, but it nagged at her like it always did. Rosie waited, quiet, pretending she was sleeping while Junkrat and Roadhog geared up. Junkrat gave her a conciliatory rub on her shoulder as he went out. "Keep the party goin', kiddo." Once Junkrat was out, Hog pulled his daughter up by her arm. "Ow! Pa, geez. What's wrong?"  
"Go down to the garage."  
"Huh? But Pat said-"  
"Shh. It goes further back then it looks. All the way back, there's a whole. Big enough for those," he pointed towards her bag of explosives, "and you can watch the drop ship leave. Think that'll do ya?" Rosie nodded, eager to finally get out, even for a little bit.

She waited until Roadhog left before bolting out the door. Rosie barreled down to the garage, edging along the wall to avoid being seen after she got there. She found the hole that Hog had spoken of. It was about the size of an average fist, located two thirds of the way up the wall, high enough that it wouldn't be reached while she was standing. It took about three jumps to finally shove the pocketed frag in the hole. Rosie ran back behind one of the support pillars and waited, holding her breath. One crocodile, two crocodile, three crocodile - _**BOOM!!**_ Rosie swung around the support - currently blackened and smoking - and grinned at her blasted "door". She ran at it headlong, jumping out just as the transport was swinging around to leave. One day... "One day I'm gonna get on that thing," she said proudly to herself, "and I'm gonna make the whole damn world listen to me laugh. Blow 'em all to hell and back!" She screamed out to the sky, kicking her legs out in a leap.

"How about you make them listen _now_?" Rosie turned. Pops was walking up, rifle in one hand while the other was at his side. He tossed Rosie her bag of bombs and her thick chain. She looked down, half of her confused and the other half ready to blow some drongos. What would Pat say about it? Would he be happy to see her fighting against the rules? Or... She remembered vividly the tension Roadhog held when she asked about where him and Junkrat had come from. If they were from somewhere that bad then maybe... "I can't make you go," Soldier called back, already outside. "But I get the feeling that you'd do better than either Junkrat or Roadhog could. Know why?" Rosie held both her weapons tightly to her chest as she turned to face Jack. "Because you seem to know how to say when enough is enough. So." Jack half-turned to her, visor making Rosie visibly unsettled. "Are you coming or not?"

Rosie gripped her gear. They were her anchors to reality. This was real. She was getting to fight. To really show the world what she could do. Her whole body shook in eager anticipation. "Hell yeah."  
"Good. Then let's go. And - welcome to Overwatch, Streetmouse."

 

Unfortunately for Rosie, moving as silently as Roadhog didn't come quite so easily as her practical insanity. A few bullets hit the corner she was hiding behind. Good thing she'd gotten out of the way... "Hey, punk! Get out here!" _No way, seppo. Not on ya life._ Wait a second. It _was_ on his life! Rosie swung her head from around the corner, grinning like a happy dog. The man aiming straight for the wall dropped his gun, pointing to her for his other fellow soldiers. Or whatever they were called. Talon wasn't exactly a military op, but whatever. "Hey kid," he yelled over the noise of guns and explosions. He was walking over, but it was not a nice walk. It was a 'get over here before I drag you' walk. "What? Ya wanna have fun, mate?" He sniggered, stopping in his tracks. "Yeah. Exotic, aren't you?"  
"Ya wanna have some fun?" She repeated, eyes narrowing to match her big predatory grin. In a flash, she had him flipped over, using him as a meatshield while choking the life out of him with her chain tight around his throat. "What? I thought you wanted some fun, fuckin' twat?! Ain't satisfied? 'Cuz I'm gettin' awful horny from this! Ain't you?" Streetmouse flung her head back, screaming laughter to the dead air. The whole group seemed to freeze. This kid was _insane_.

 

No.

A coincidence.

Chains were rattling right behind him, where Hog always was. Hog had his back. So why was there more rattling further down the alley in front of him? As if he'd forgotten, Junkrat glanced over his shoulder and, surely enough, Hog was still right behind him, hooking and blasting. Yeah. Maybe it was just an echo. Yeah, an echo! That's exactly what it was! Nothing else. A grenade went off that wasn't one of his. No, it had to be. Talon didn't really use explosives. One of his that he dropped. And it got shot. ...But he didn't drop frags  _that_ much. Did he? No way. Junkrat peered out from behind the corner and watched the little Talon minions race into a giant cloud of smoke. No matter who that belonged to, running into it was not a good idea.

Laughing. Bombs. Like it was another Aussie out to have fun. No. It was a coincidence. Nobody really left the Outback anymore unless they were some soft-sod from Sydney or along the coast. And then, sparingly. So even if it  _was_ some lunatic from Sydney, they wouldn't be laughing like a fuckin' Junker, they'd be screaming for their lives. It was just - chains rattle - a -grenades blew - fuckin' - raucous laughter followed by a loud snap - ...no it wasn't. Nobody sounded like that but Junkrat and Roadhog.  _ **Nobody.**_ Junkrat jumped up and went running as quick as he could away from the seemingly-endless explosions. If it was a fuckin' Junker out to get 'em, he had another thing comin'. A damn hook and a frag to his mouth. Rat stayed closer to Roadhog than he really would've liked, but Junkers were Junkers. If they came in ones and twos, then they were out for personal gain. And  _those_ ones were the worst to fight off.

Smoke was clearing, on both ends of the alley. Junkrat still tossed grenades, explosives, the whole nine yards out to the steadily piling bodies in front of Hog, of course, but he kept an eye on the other smoke cloud, the one that had either a real-deal Junker or a really demented idiot. ...Equally likely, really. But...wait.

Kid. Kid kid kid kid kid kid  _kid kid kid kid kid **kid kid kid kid**_. No.  **No.** No way. She was sleeping, back in the stupid Overwatch base they hadn't left in years. Back in the stupid Overwatch base where he was blackmailed into staying cooped up for hours, days, weeks at a time. Back in the Overwatch base fuckin' around with the ninja like she couldn't have the place rigged to blow in fifteen minutes. Back in an alley fighting Talon... Jack.  _Jack._ There was a reason he'd hung back.  _Fucking Morrison. I'm gonna kill 'im. I'm gonna kill 'em all._ And he would. But Rosie was first. Always. 

Streetmouse was tearing up the alley, laughing her ass off while chucking frag after frag after flash towards the little ragtag team that had been able to scrape themselves together to fight. They weren't doing very well. One more explosive...boom. Done and done.

"Teach you ta mess with me, fuckers!" Streetmouse rocked back on her heels, sticking her tongue out at the unfortunately unresponsive corpses she'd left in her wake. Childish. But she'd gotten the job done. Pops just said to take out the straggling Talon lackeys, and she'd done just that. So it was time to go home and- "Ooph! Hey, get off'a me ya fuckin'-"  
"What the hell were you thinkin'?!" Both men shouting made the girl's ears ring. Streetmouse crossed her arms in a huff. So much for sneaking in and out. "Pops sent me out here!" She retaliated. "He said I could take out the bloody fuckwits out on the sides 'n I did! Now ya only got twenty to deal with instead of fifty! Fuckin' welcome!"

They were all about gone anyway. The rest of Overwatch could deal with them. Fuck the rest. With an angry glance behind them, Roadhog pushed both the rodents into a run, firing behind as they escaped. If he hit some Overwatch agents? Oh fucking well. Instead of heading straight for the Orca though, he steered them towards the bike, tucked away in a dark corner. If Morrison got within sight of either Junkrat or Roadhog, he'd be less than pulp in a second. Best take the bike most of the way. That'd keep it clean. ...Relatively. Roadhog would run the fucker over if he got in the way, no problem. 'Accident' he could claim. Wouldn't work, but it'd at least keep the Overwatch agents from shoving him into a hole. 

Click, click... Streetmouse had caught it long before it was even set up. Grenade. She'd purposefully stuck herself between it and Junkrat. It'd be fine, she thought, totally fine. They were still ahead of it. Unless they moved it...but why would they bother? It wasn't like it was a nuke. It was just a modified grenade. And she'd wired it to go off ten seconds early, which she knew they hadn't caught. They were getting a bomb to the face whether they liked it or not. Click, two click, three click - grenade was set in place. Timed perfectly. Except it was going to be blowing right in front of the wide street they had to pass. Good thing they were both running like hell. Hell didn't quite match up with the grenade, though. They ran. Running. Boom. It was still way back, but it sent a small wave of heat down the side street. And something cold straight into her side. Streetmouse didn't bother looking at it until she'd hopped on the back of the bike. It hurt a lot, now that they'd stopped running. Roadhog was taking off while Streetmouse stared in near horror at the giant metal plate sticking out of her side. It wasn't much bigger than a dinner plate, but it was stuck deep. Hopefully not too deep. The sheila was a bitch to deal with, and she really didn't want to.

Streetmouse grabbed it, roughly tugging to pull it out. Each little jerk made it hurt more. With a monstrous pull and evilly rumbling growl, Streetmouse ripped the metal plate from her side. It wasn't very thick either, so the cut wasn't very wide. Just long, and probably a little bit deeper than would be okay - the bottom third of the plate was coated in blood. Her blood. Through the ride, she leaned back, breathing steady to come off the nice adrenaline high that'd kept the pain out of her head. Now every little breath and bump made it ache.

The damn Orca dipped down several times, but Junkrat's frags kept it away for most of the ride. They didn't need the dumb sheila messing around. 

The chopper rumbled to a stop outside the garage. Before Roadhog could even consider what to do with Streetmouse and the giant gash in her side, Junkrat was storming off. "Junkrat," he called. Junkrat didn't hear. "Jamie!"  
"What the fuck?!" Sparks were flying out of Rat's eyes. He didn't really care for much else than getting Soldier's head on a plate and slamming it down in front of Ana with a smile and a 'Thanks very much, sheila'. "Get over here. She's bleeding." Junkrat clenched his hands into fists off and on several times. He wasn't usually an angry git. But he had raw, fresh, burning rage that he needed to be rid of. Badly. On the other hand, though, he had a kid with a six-inch wide gash in her side. One was a little more important than the other. It just took a few seconds to realize. "Okay, okay," he mumbled under his breath as he hobbled back to Roadhog's side. "What're we doin'?"  
"Towel. Bandages if you can find 'em, but not too much. May have to stick a gun to Ziegler's head for this." That just froze him in his tracks. "What the bloody fuck for?"  
"Stitches."  
"What? D-dad, I'm fine." Clearly not. Rosie only ever said 'Dad' when she was trying to kiss up and get out of something. Roadhog pulled her off the back of the chopper and hauled her to the back way where he'd pointed out to her. He knew that there had been a chance that Soldier would jump on her to go out. And she was the daughter of two of the worst criminals the world knew, so of course she'd jump on it. For whatever reason Roadhog had actually hoped for Soldier to be decent enough to not to. Stupid Hog. 

Junkrat, blanched white, was practically panicking with what to do. They kept the most basic first aid with them just about everywhere no matter what, so getting what Roadhog asked for was as simple as turning in the garage and digging in the sidecar. Now he was bouncing as Roadhog set Rosie down, trying to get some of his nervous energy off by fidgeting with the med stuff. Hog glanced around a bit before carefully pulling his mask off. Rosie practically had a nervous breakdown. "P-pa, don't! I-I'm f-fine, see?" Not in the least. Her normally dark face, the same that Junkrat used to love comparing to dark brown sugar, was turning pale. Not quite white, but sure as hell trying. Her voice cracked and her every movement seemed pained. Not fine. "Hoggy, ya sure that's a great-"  
"Just stay there in case someone decides to come around." Without his mask to muffle his voice, Roadhog sounded like the real boss. And, in this case, he was. Junkrat shut up immediately, glancing to the side so often it seemed pointless to not just keep his head turned. Roadhog pulled the mask tight around Rosie's face. "Pa? What the... The fuck are ya doin'?" Her voice sounded like it was in a bubble. Which meant that there wasn't much chance of anything getting loose. Hog silently slotted in the last canister of hogdrogen he'd had left from the fight - it was only half full, but that would probably be more than enough. "Inhale, slow." Rosie took a long draw of the healing gas and was immediately reminded of when she got locked in the garage when she was six. Her head felt like a balloon, all light and airy, and the rest of her body was dead weight to keep her from floating off. 

Stupid dead weight. 

When her high started to ebb away, she realized that her side wasn't hurting. She glanced down and it was almost entirely closed up. A relatively faint scar was all that was left. No wonder Pa could go on those long missions. If he had _this_ kind of stuff, he had to be practically unstoppable, especially if the sheila was around. Then it'd be a one-man atomic bomb. That thought was short-lived, slain when she looked back up to excitedly pipe up about her closed wound and saw her two dads silently bickering back and forth. Rather than the arguing itself, it was their expressions that really made Rosie go quiet. Junkrat looked like he might die at any moment. Roadhog looked equally as distressed, but it was more in the tightness in his stature, the way he couldn't seem to relax no matter what. This just wasn't them. They didn't get so upset so easily. No wonder they didn't want to take her out. This had to be a big red...flag. 

Rosie pushed Hog's mask off, letting it fall to the ground while she started off into the base. The two men barely noticed, just enough to sort of try to follow after her. The hallways were largely empty. Good thing. If Junkrat had been angry before, Rosie was a thousand times more so. She was walking in such a way that compelled Athena to silently warn everyone she could of the incoming fury. This walk wasn't anything she'd ever picked up from Roadhog. This was all her. Calm fury, collecting itself to be unleashed. 

 

Soldier was looking over the reports he'd received from the other members of the strike team when Rosie silently glided into the room. He glanced up, half-smiling. "Streetmouse. Come to give me your report?"  
"No." Jack shrugged. He hadn't really expected her to comply straight away given how disgustingly disobedient Junkrat and Roadhog were. "Pa 'n Pat didn't want me to go, did they?" Jack sighed heavily, turning his eyes on the girl. "No they did not. It's odd. They don't mind throwing themselves out into combat, but you are always a different story. Why do you-" Rosie kicked him hard in the chest, sending the older man sliding across the meeting table. She stepped onto the table, silently, ghostly. Her fist balled into Soldier's shirt, fabric creaking, threatening to tear. "You fuckin' put me on the line so you could keep Junkrat and Roadhog in it," she growled through clenched teeth. Her expression was raw aggression, without any dull from playfulness or mischief. This was the cold-blooded state of a killer who wasn't afraid to do their own bloody work. Exactly who she'd been raised to be. And her deep voice uttering her fathers' names without bursting into giggles was something else entirely. 

"Rosie, get off of Morrison immediately!" With a grunt, the teen tilted her head up to see Ana pointing a gun right at her face. Clearly there were going to be two sides to this fight already. _It's us an' them, Roadie,_ she'd once heard Junkrat say. _Soon as they milk us drier 'n whores, we're gonna get tossed out like weekend trash. I don't wanna be around to see it._ It made so much sense now. "Make me, woman." Ana started. She'd never tried to be angry towards the Junkers, even with her slight distaste for their brutality. This was entirely unprecedented. "Rosie, you-"  
"I what? Need ta put a leash on me neck and fuckin' hand ya the chain?!" She slammed Soldier onto the table without properly realizing it. He lowly groaned under the vice-like grip of the teen, but he didn't have a chance of getting away. "Rosie, please. Leave him alone. You need to calm yourself."

Rosie barked a cold, humorless laugh. It was incredibly unlike her. "Calm? Me? See, I'm calm as a fuckin' spider, Ana. Problem is? What happens when the damn spider gets sick of watchin' the fly buzz around it's head?" Glaring down at Soldier, Rosie laughed again, just as bitter and cold as the one before. "We're fuckin' expendable. Think I can't see that?"  
"You didn't seem to have any inkling-"  
"Don't think that because I grew up on gunpowder and scrap means I've got goddamn DADS syndrome. I'm just the happy fuckin' accident that keeps 'em together, ain't I? All you ever saw me as." Her cheek twitched into a wolfish sneer, evil and full of hate. A final growl left Morrison on the table. Rosie dropped off nonchalantly, glancing back when she pulled the door open. "I didn't have a problem, Ana," she said over her shoulder. "But once he decided to fuck with me to get to my dad, he crossed the line. Far as I'm concerned? Thanks to bloody fuckin' Soldier, each an' every one of you buggers is less than fuckin' dirt." Rosie made sure to slam the door especially hard. Hard enough that the whole hall seemed to quake a little in fear of her. The bright blue of her eyes glinted with a steely conviction, even when they widened at the sight of the remaining two Junkers in front of her. "Oh... Hey. I, ah, took care'f 'im. Fucker. Teach 'im to use me as a scapegoat, eh?" 

 

Junkrat was angry. He didn't want to leave. _Really_ didn't want to. But there was no way Hog was gonna be content to go and leave him there. So it was time to pack up and leave these fucking Overwatch gits for good. ...But probably not, all things considered. No. Not all. 

Just the one. The kid... _His_ kid. Rosie was one of the few things that Junkrat minded not having around. She was sweet when she wasn't blowing things up, she had the most beautiful face, the nicest smile, the best thing he could ask for after Roadie. And surprise, surprise. This sick fucking world was gonna either kill her or make him leave. At least leaving, she might come out to find them on her own. Junkrat finally realized he'd been smashing the same bag of food in the same spot for about two minutes. He shook his head and went on with his packing. Dumb Junkrat. Attention, though, was not his strong suit. Case in point, the second he smelled the pleasant aroma of bobba tea in the room, all thoughts of packing were gone. Expecting Roadhog to have brought a bit for him to calm down, Junkrat swung around to face Rosie. Quietly holding the cup like some kind of peace offering. "Hey, tyke. What'cha after?" She said nothing, just kept holding out the tea for him to take. When he did, Rosie let her arms drop, being rather quiet for once in her coherent life. It felt strange, but how could she not? The most important people in her life were going to leave. And they weren't even going to have the decency to let her wave good-bye...

"Thanks, kid, needed- Whoa now, what's wrong?" One tear was all it really took. "You two're leavin' me here. And if you aren't here, then Overwatch ain't gonna want me. They'll toss me out. So on top of you leavin' me from outta the blue, I'm gonna be a fuckin' homeless git ta boot. Bad enough that Morrison wanted to slash my back. Didn't think you'd do it too."  
"Wh- Nonononono, Rosie, it..." Junkrat put his slender arms around her shoulders. "It ain't like that, it ain't. Just...gonna take a vacation, see?"  
"You don't do that," was her simple reply. _Gah, I can't just lie t' my l'il pride._ "N-no... Awroight, ya got us. We're skippin', but it's not like we ain't takin' ya 'cuz we don't want to." Rosie shuffled a bit, plunking herself right down on her tiny bed, sighing as if she was tired. "Look, me an' Roadie? We grew up with bombs an' explosives, guns to our heads if anyone got too close. You...I don't mean ya ain't a grease-blooded Junker like us, but, ya been raised in a silver spoon china shop. It ain't easy out there."  
"Then let me _get_ out there!" Rosie stood again, despite the protest of the mattress beneath her. "Take me out there! We can go on a new crime spree!" Just the mention of crime made her head swim. "Yeah! I'll blast my fuckin' name in the whole world's face, an' we can all do it! Jus' me you an' Pa! If I can get out there, then I won't be such a bitchin' spoon jockey! Please, I'm beggin'! I wanna show the fuckin' world who the hell it's messin' with!" Big blue eyes...round, kiddie face...oh jeez, he was falling for it. Never let it be said that Junkrat was a **complete** hardass. "Alright, kiddo. You got your ticket." Junkrat mussed up Rosie's frizzy black hair with a deranged giggle. "But only 'cuz ya make me good bobba. If ya gonna come with, ya gotta help me pack up everythin' else, though."  
"Hah! Not a fuckin' problem!"

 

Ana quietly rehearsed the same lines she'd been working over for hours now. _Junkrat, we understand that sending Rosie out there was dangerous. We apologize for it, but we want to know that she can be of use to Overwatch, the same as you and Roadhog._ Yep. This was going to end in utter disaster. Disaster was working on its own time, though. The whole base rumbled with a monstrous boom, shaking along with it. Ana quickly swung the door open to see an empty room. Minus the giant bundle of explosives in the doorway. Ana only caught a glimpse of the note left there by the Junkers. 

_Have a nice fuckin' short life without us! -Junkrat, Roadhog, Streetmouse_

Underneath the words were three tiny drawings - Junkrat's signature x-eye smiley face, Roadhog's pig, and then a grinning rodent underneath. Ana slammed the door shut and ran as quickly as she could. However...it isn't exactly easy to run from a solid two-hundred pounds of explosives.

 

Streetmouse screeched like a banshee as the Overwatch based tried to collapse into itself. As a substitute seatbelt, most of their supplies and gear was situated on her lap. It certainly kept her anchored down. This was going to be a great day. Junkrat nudged her with his metal leg. "Good feel to blow a place like that to dust, right?" Rosie nodded vigorously, proud that she had helped rig half of those explosives herself. A skinny blue shape flitted by to the left. The Brit. Streetmouse squirmed out of the sidecar, leaning out with her chain gripped firmly in her twitching fingers. Another blue flash made Tracer appear on the back of the sidecar. "Sorry, folks, got my orders to bring ya- Woah!" Rosie wrapped her chain around Tracer's ankles and pulled. Her spiked hair flew out behind her, just barely grazing the ground beneath. "Sorry, Tracey, got me own orders! An' that's to get you Overwatch gits off our back! Nothin' personal, though, just business!" The rest of the length of chain was flung around Tracer's torso, then she was shoved out of the sidecar, tumbling as she hit the road. Well...maybe it was a little personal. Tracer always seemed excessively bubbly to Streetmouse, even more so than Junkrat.

Oh well. That was all fading behind her now. Now she was setting towards a new life. A better one. Where she wouldn't be cooped up all hours of the day. When she wouldn't be stuck fighting bot after bot after bot after bot to get her nervous energy out. This was going to be great. Someone else landed on the bike. Streetmouse groaned. It was too light to be anyone else. "Ya mind, Shimada? We're a little busy!" She wildly swung behind her, easily caught by Genji's forearm. "You disgrace your training with such reckless, foolish, selfish behavior!"  
"Oh yeah? Well what'd Overwatch ever do for me? They stuck me out in a fight so I could get killed! That's all I fuckin' am to them! That's all you are, too!"  
"That is untrue. Overwatch-"  
"Fuckin' blackmailed ya into turnin' you into a cyborg so you could live! They must'a _really_ done you some damage if you think they saved you." Genji was utterly silent. Rosie knew he was apprehensive, wary. Living with someone else who didn't take a mask off for almost anything, Rosie was exceptional at telling emotions from everything but faces. Genji's shoulders tightened, his body practically snapped taut. "I ain't gonna live with it, Shimada. It's your choice whether ya do or don't, but me? I'm takin' the highway ta hell. Someone wants to stop me? I'll drag 'em down with me." A strong kick sent Genji out of the car as well. Streetmouse hopped up on the back, giving her tutor a salute and a quick bow. Just to show that maybe - _maybe_ \- she had some respect for him, still. 

This was going to be a great life. A great, wonderful, lovely life. All hers. Just the three Junkers, out on the road. No higher-ups, no reports, no training. Just the road and whatever the world wanted to throw at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to do, so I'm gonna be taking a break from the fifth chapter. It's gonna be kind like 3, snippets of the new crime wave courtesy of the Junkers. I'm gonna be working on some smuttier stuff, actually, mostly pwp. Actually entirely pwp. Who needs a plot when you have the dicc?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is SUPER late and a little unsatisfying, I tried my best!

"The infamous criminals Junkrat and Roadhog have made a reappearance after over a decade of little to no criminal activity. This footage, captured at the scene of their most recent crime wave, shows that this time, they are not alone." The screen slipped to a shaky, grainy video of the two Junkers ripping through a hole in the wall, arms laden with cash from the bank. Behind them was a smaller figure, also carrying money. The video showed them loading the whole lot into the chopper, then paused, zooming in on the third member's face. It was still piss-poor quality, but it was better than nothing. The image was put into a corner, and the reporter reappeared. "It is unknown whether this third criminal is another Junker sent to help the two wanted men, whether they are a local hopping on the back of the two powerful criminals, or if the third party is simply a kidnapped or paid lackey that they have been using to retrieve more funding during their attacks."  
"Load of bullshit!" Rosie yelled at the screen, grinning madly around the food that the three had brought up to the hotel room.

Junkrat ruffled her hair, sending a small cloud of gunpowder onto her shoulders. "Ain't that right? Kidnapped lackey. Like we'd be dumb enough for that, huh Roadie?" The monster of a man didn't respond, just lightly waved from the second bed, dead-tired after going so long in Overwatch without this kind of proper adrenaline rush. It left him way too drained. Junkrat and Streetmouse (damn them) were able to keep awake for far too long because of their practical ADD.

The two didn't mind the silence, bantering away all night about sheilas and dumb broads.

 

"C'mon, you guys said when I'm seventeen we can go down to Australia! Well, I'm seventeen! On the dot!" Emphasizing her point, the girl pointed at the bedside digital clock in the dinghy hotel. They had quite literally just settled in, which was why Streetmouse found it so important. If she could push the idea while Pa and Pat were tired, they wouldn't argue much. Normally they didn't. "Can't it wait til mornin', squirt? Haven't seen a bed in weeks." It was true. They'd pulled off a massive heist in China and had been racing across the country since then to get away. So far, they were in the clear, but after a few nights without any sleep, all three Junkers were ready to drop dead the moment they walked into the hotel. 

This was something that couldn't wait, though. "Please! There's a plane leavin' for Sydney in the mornin'! ...It'd get the cops off our backs for a while." Despite her prodding, the two Junkers didn't have a whole lot of desire to go back to the Outback. On top of the radiation, they weren't exactly sure on the status of Junkrat's personal bounty with the Junkers... And yet...they did have a third lunatic if they made a return trip to Oz. Maybe...

"This is what I been waitin' for!" Red sand clouded in front of Rosie's booted feet as she jumped around in the sand. She'd seen a few deserts in her life but nothing could beat the beautiful wasteland of the Outback. She'd waited her whole life for it. Nothing was going to ruin this. Not even the cops trying to fire from their dumbass hoverers a few hundred feet back. "Get down!" Roadhog growled, grabbing both rodents by the scruffs of their necks to duck behind the rusty, overturned shed. "Ah, they ain't such tough shit, Pa! I'll get th' fire goin'!" Rosie tossed a grenade in her hand for a second before launching it across the empty space. The cops didn't see it until it blew, right in their front line. 

Junkrat giggled at that, setting his frag launcher to work as well while Roadhog finished hooking the chopper together. Something had sprung a leak while it was in the plane, or something of the like. The bike just smelled like it'd blow at any minute on the escape drive out.

The whole line of cops seemed to have piled up in a split second after only a handful of grandes. Junkrat shoved his launcher into Rosie's arms - who grinned like a girl possessed - and shoved his way under Roadhog's arms to help with the fixing of the chopper. The two men fumbled around for a moment, cursing both the bike and each other for getting in the way, while behind them, the continuous repetition of squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-reload pattered on without much care, interrupted only by one of Rosie's own grenades.

"There ya go, mate! All se- 'Ey! Roadie, what th' fuck're ya doin'?!" Junkrat was slung into the sidecar, protesting the movement even as Roadhog revved the bike and snatching Rosie by the back of her tattered shirt. The girl cackled, tossing the frag launcher back to Rat while throwing grenade after grenade behind the bike as it sped away. Just as the hover cars buzzed by... They all blew up.

Roadhog could only groan as the other two screeched laughter to the wind. He loved them both to death, but _damn_ if they didn't get annoying sometimes.

 

Bloody bits were all that remained of the Junkers. Rosie smiled to herself, slinging her chain over her shoulder in a single swing. Two years in the Outback and these fucks didn't understand that when a lady said 'no', what she meant was 'get the fuck out or else I'll kick your nuts into your mouth'. Junkrat hobbled out of the abandoned plane hangar, leaning on the doorway since he apparently hadn't bothered reattaching his leg. "Squirt? That you?"

"Yeah, jus' me Pat. Takin' care of a couple'a jokers that didn't get th' message yet." Junkrat looked startled. "Whot? Ya mean...there were twits out 'ere? Waitin' on us?" Rosie shrugged. She took a few steps out into the open to see if there were any others to worry about. It looked like not, but the two _did_ happen to bring a dusty, beaten-up wheeled pickup truck that looked like it had something good in it. "Dunno what the hell they were doin', Pat. Jus' tried t' come in, an' I let 'em know that visitors ain't welcome."

 

"No more suits." 

"Why not?"

"Because I fuckin' said so."

"Whiner."

"Am not, ya l'il cretin!"

"Whiner, whiner, whiner!" Roadhog groaned. This argument had been going on for hours. The girl who'd helped them out with the Dorado Bank heist, Sombra, had made contact after fuck knows how long and asked the Junkers to consider jumping on with Talon. She'd certainly made it sound appealing, but after thirteen years with Overwatch, Junkrat was not keen on jumping the gun somewhere else after only six years out. Rosie seemed to think it was the best.

"Least with Talon, we ain't gotta dodge shit all the time. We go out, blow shit up, don't worry 'bout protocols or the like. Or reports. Or old fucks." Rosie was still sore about her first 'mission'. If there were any news reports about 76 nearby, Rosie was out on in a bloodlust-fueled rage looking for him. The old man, if he was still alive, had some atoning to do in the eyes of the Streetmouse. "Still gotta deal with suits." Junkrat huffed, burying his face in the meat of Roadhog's belly. He didn't want to deal with any kind of organization anymore. No Talon, no Overwatch, no nothin'. "Ain't doin' it."

 

The chopper was right there. The kid was right there. Then they weren't.

 

"You think they'll fall for that?" Rosie shrugged at the black-clad assassin. "If I was worried about 'em findin' out, I wouldn't 'a told ya I'd do it." Fair enough, Reaper supposed. Sombra had told him to come out and meet the Junkers to get them on board with Talon, but they'd all turned him down. Well...not all of them. The young one, the girl, stopped him before he got too far. Told him she'd lose the other two. He asked how. She just replied with "Gotta have a little faith, mate! 'R else this just ain't gonna work."

She had the explosives experience to rival Junkrat and the brawling experience to at least match half of Roadhog's. A little training, a little grooming, and she'd probably turn out better than either of the Junkers. "To my knowledge, you've been with them all nineteen years of your life," Reaper mused, watching as the scrawny blond squirmed in the larger man's hold from a high catwalk. "Why leave them now?" Rosie shrugged again.

She didn't want to do it. Rosie was not a deceptive sort when it came to anything more than stealing cookies from a cabinet. This kind of...espionage was not her strongest suit, though it'd worked great when she had a little help. But her fathers had been so damned overbearing in the past few months and she had no clue if it was because she was older or if they were just always like that. Either way, she didn't appreciate it as much as she once did. She still loved both of them from the bottom of her soot-stained heart. But if they couldn't let her choose her own way to go, then something needed to be done to make them. 

"Guess mice don't mix with rats an' pigs like they used ta. I think ya know what that's like, right Reyes?" Rosie smirked when the assassin seemed to freeze up. "I-"

"Don't bother, mate. I ain't got nothin' against ya for who ya were. But I'll tell ya now, I want a piece'a 76. Save a little for me when ya get 'im, will ya?"

**Author's Note:**

> I got inspired and tbh, I think I like the idea of Junkrat and Roadhog raising a little baby of their own. It sounds so cute, doES IT NOT??????


End file.
